Superagents vs Goa'uld
by GroundPetrel
Summary: A SG1 fanfic incorporating six of my own characters. Just when things couldn't get any worse...Hathor showed up. Now six very lost time-travelling mutant CIA agents will have to team up with SG1 to escape alive-and, hopefully, get back to their own dimension. Suspended temporarily due to pressing exams.
1. Chapter 1

"We're all going to die, aren't we?"

Agent Gull sighed. Agent Raven was usually cool in a fight, but she was only seventeen, and the enemy's pain rays and laser guns were enough to scare anyone. Peregrine had been hit by one of the pain guns; he was lying at Agent Gull's feet, moaning and writhing. Some kind of nerve stimulation, maybe; designed to overload the pain neurons. He wouldn't be able to take another hit like that, not without having a heart attack.

As the burly humans with weird tattoos moved relentlessly forwards, support troops laying down covering fire with the laser guns that had burned a hole in Raven's left leg, Agent Gull couldn't help but think of how they'd gotten into this mess.

It had been another ordinary day for the Operation Falcon team. Raven had just recovered from a nasty virus from the future (long story), Agent Shadow had just recovered from being eviscerated by the evil mutant March, and Agent Gull herself had decided that she had had enough of discovering alternate universes and being eaten by giant sandworms (actually a type of burrowing lizard) for a while, and so she had planned a vacation to Tahiti for six of the team members.

Of course, karma had to kick in. Agent Gull figured that the various team members had done some truly horrible things in their past lives (if reincarnation was possible, of course—but theology was something that Agent Gull actively ignored, because it was too stressful). The official CIA Lear jet had been caught in a storm over the Pacific, and had been flung headlong through a glimmering blue interdimensional portal, which literally opened and closed just enough to admit the plane.

They had crash-landed on a stretch of tundra, scattering a bunch of wooly, four-eyed kangaroo-like creatures that had been peacefully grazing on lichen. Two days of exploring the ice world (a small UAV drone that came standard with all CIA planes had helped the team scan the planet, which turned out to be in a rather severe ice age) found the agents examining a strange ring marked with nine indecipherable symbols. At this point, karma kicked in again.

Agent Peregrine had figured out a way to make the symbols glow. Working on a hunch, he pressed buttons and rotated the moveable parts of the ring while the others hunted. It was sheer luck that he hadn't been vaporized by the energy emission when the device activated.

Agent Gull's electrosense had immediately told her that the shimmering gateway was a stable wormhole. A hasty conference had resulted in the team going through the portal, on the basis of the hope that it could get them home and the assumption that things couldn't get any worse.

Obviously, they had been wrong.

The supersoldiers with the crazy snake headdresses had ambushed the agents mere minutes after they had entered the new world. Peregrine hadn't gotten behind the big rock quickly enough.

Agent Electrode activated his bracers. The muscle blocks on his arms sent off an electric pulse, which was picked up by the heat-sucking electrium coil in the bracers, allowing the coil to literally transform the surrounding heat energy into contained electricity. The pulse slid out of the coil and down the electrium wires, now extended to their full length of twenty feet.

Electrode popped up about half an inch as the tattooed warriors prepared for another volley. He used the electrified filament on his right bracer like a whip, the tip flying out and trailing against the armor of six soldiers. They collapsed, smoking from the ears, as Electrode ducked from the return fire.

Agent Gull smelled something in the air. Pheromones of some sort. Electrode looked confused. Agent Sabertooth risked a look over the boulder and snarled, baring her fangs.

Agent Gull looked over herself. The soldiers had stopped shooting, forming a kind of honor guard for a beautiful woman in a ridiculously impractical outfit.

"Who the hell is that? And boy, is she cute!"

"No idea, Shadow. And think with your head, not with your hormones."

"Hey, she is cute!"

"Yeah, and she's got supersoldier minions who were just trying to kill us with laser beams. If you think with your hormones every time you see another woman, you'll just get hurt like last week, over and over again."

The lesbian agent winced, clutching the stab marks on her abdomen where October had stabbed her after seducing her. Last week had been tough.

"Now, those goons are super strong, like SOU flunkies. We're considerably stronger, but you all need to remember that they're tougher and stronger than normal people. We'll probably need to fight through this, OK?"

"Great," said Raven. "Guess we will die today. In a parallel universe, on what is likely an alien planet."

"Yeah. Ladies and gentlemen, it has been an honor to serve with you. Now let's give them hell. Try to make it to the portal, see if we can activate it quickly."

Agent Gull pulled herself over the boulder, leaping at least three times as far as an unmodified human could. Her intractinium-boned fist punched through the first goon's armor like wet paper.

The enemy woman's eyes glowed gold. A normal person would've done a double take, but Agent Gull was used to weird stuff. She pulled off a double spinning roundhouse kick, crushing the skulls of two more minions.

The enemy woman moved back, and said something in an impossibly deep voice. Agent Gull heard a crackle of electricity and collapsed, screaming in pain.

As she hit the ground, she saw her teammates falling around her. The last thought she had was of how much her luck sucked.

Colonel Jack O'Neill woke up with a groan and a headache. Hathor's Jaffa had been too many and too strong, cutting SG-1 off from the Stargate and incapacitating them with zat guns. Now he was in some sort of cell, with Daniel, Teal'c, and two other men.

"Hey. Welcome back to the land of the living."

This came from a big Native American to O'Neill's left. He had been shackled and chained to a wall. He was wearing some kind of jet-black bodysuit that accentuated his action-hero muscles. His forearms were unusually thick, with twin rows of muscular blocks running down them and onto the hands.

The other stranger—also chained-was a nondescript, if skinny, Caucasian guy, who seemed to be nursing a bad zat headache too. He had messy hair and another form-fitting suit, marked with some kind of insignia. O'Neill squinted, trying to read it. A bird of some kind? Hard to tell.

"Colonel. According to the larger man, Hathor's Jaffa have taken these men's female colleagues. We believe that they are to be implanted soon. I assume that Major Carter has been taken as well."

"Oh, great. Just what I needed. Another mess, just like last time."

"Indeed."

"Please tell me that Daniel's not dead again, at least."

"I'm fine."

"Great. OK, let's start with names. I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill of the US Air Force. This is Teal'c and Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Agents Electrode and Peregrine of the CIA. We're from an alternate temporal continuity. Don't act shocked, this sort of thing happens to us a lot."

"That bad, huh?"

The other man grimaced. "Yeah, this was supposed to be our vacation. We crash-landed on a tundra planet, figured out how to use the portal thing, and got bushwhacked by those supersoldiers, the Jaffa."

"Ouch. We were supposed to be on a routine trade mission, but then Hathor's boys showed up and started fighting smart for once. I tell you, if one of those damn snakes has managed to get his—or her—head out of the sand for long enough to think up smart tactics, Earth is in big trouble."

"Against that kind of tech? Given that your Dr. Jackson says that this is the first decade of the 21st century, and my Earth of 2022 wouldn't stand a chance against these guys? Yeah, you're screwed."

The other stranger spoke up.

"Her soldiers seem to worship her. Those were ancient Egyptian bows of supplication that they were making when she checked up on us ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, the Jaffa worship the Goa'uld—Hathor's species—and Hathor's a Queen Goa'uld—one that spawns others—which means that she can have her host express pheromones that can make men obey her."

"Didn't seem to work on us."

"You might be immune, although that's incredibly rare."

"Well, we are mutant superagents. Pheromone resistance might be one of the accidental genes that I codes in to us by mistake."

"A bit more useful than your immortality gene." This was from the big stranger.

"I said I was sorry, OK? And besides, our lifespans are not infinite. I said 500 million years, tops."

"That's still long enough to outlast the rest of humanity. Anyway, Colonel, your friends here already gave us the rundown on the Goa'uld and this universe's balance of power. We're just waiting to bust out of these cuffs and kick some alien snake-eel-thing butt."

"No time like the present."

The big guy cracked a smile. "Colonel, I like your attitude. This is some sort of parked spaceship—I saw where they put our weapons, so that part should be easy."

The skinny one literally ripped his handcuffs apart, and slid a set of bluish blades out of each fist. He sliced off the individual cuffs and freed his comrade in under ten seconds.

O'Neill found himself struggling to breathe. The sheer strength of the skinny young guy—and how hard that metal must have been, to slice through what looked like titanium cuffs like a hot knife through butter. Unbelievable.

"We ready?" asked the skinny guy. Without waiting for an affirmative, he punched the cell door. Three inches of solid steel crumpled around his fist and flew outwards. The surprised Jaffa guards had their heads hit together before they could scream. They crumpled.

O'Neill decided to do the smart thing, and play along. He grabbed a fallen guard's staff weapon and passed the other to Teal'c.


	2. Chapter 2

Obviously, I don't own SG-1. I'm going to poke a little fun at some of its tropes anyway, though.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Major Samantha Carter was still in shock. Part of that was the headache that she had from being shot by a zat gun (seriously, Hathor's minions had to pick what was supposed to be an easy day for SG-1 to suddenly learn actual tactics?), but part of it was because of her new colleagues in imprisonment.

The woman on the floor at her feet had apparently survived two zat shots (according to the hulking woman with the mane of unruly hair and the scary teeth). How, Major Carter didn't know. The largest woman had three-inch canine teeth. The third was just a teenage girl, with something that she was trying to hide on her back, under her harem clothes, and an oddly shaped chest. The last one was apparently suffering from antidepressant withdrawal (the women had offered a long explanation involving accidents in genetic modification, hormones, and why an empowered libido was a very bad thing), and kept complaining about how her dream come true had turned into a nightmare. All four (except the unconscious one)were chained to the wall of the harem room and had hand and foot cuffs. That was unusual—usually the Goa'uld just used their hypnosis rays to subdue their captives and left them under Jaffa guard. The large woman had said something about the "sparkly light stuff" having no effect, and something about the teenager punching "that bitch in the backless dress" (that must've been Hathor) in the face.

The big woman was a broad-shouldered, bodybuilder type with a mane of shaggy brunette hair. She had unusually long arms, complete with enlarged hands and inch-long finger claws. She had a short snout, huge eyes, and three-inch canine teeth jutting from her upper jaws. Her legs were catlike, with clawed feet. Her ears were pointed, for some reason, as if the rest of her wasn't weird enough.

The girl was continually adjusting her meager harem clothes, because of the vaguely unwholesome way that her huge sternum and massive chest muscles poked right through the obscenely deep V-neck. Not that there was anything particularly unwholesome about the girl's chest itself; the teenager—poor thing couldn't be more than 14—didn't have breasts, or even nipples. Instead, there was a scarred expanse of skin overlaying at least six inches of corded muscle, which Major Carter would have sworn attached to something just _below_ the girl's arms. The kid's eyes were huge, although in the dim light of the harem she behaved as though she were blind, complete with looking in the wrong direction when asked questions.

Major Carter had avoided looking at the other awake woman, because she was _certain_ that the woman had been black when she (Major Carter) had woken up from her pain- and sedative-induced unconsciousness. Now, however, the other woman looked like Audrey Hepburn did in that dumb romance movie Major Carter had been watching the previous day, _Roman Vacation_. There was definitely something wrong there.

The woman on the floor was a nondescript Asian woman, with hair that wasn't so much short as it was blowtorched stubble. She may have been brunette, but it was hard to tell. Mostly because her hair was burned off. Her teeth were bluish, glinting metal. Despite the fact that she was unconscious (and moaning faintly), she was hand- and foot-cuffed (and both sets of cuffs were chained together in the back, which _had_ to be a painful position). Like the other three, she was fit and muscular, although not to the body-builder degree of the big woman with the scary fangs.

The bodybuilder introduced herself as "Sabertooth. Agent Sabertooth."

Major Carter grinned in spite or herself. "Bond fan? I'm Major Samantha Carter, by the way. Call me Sam."

"Quite the opposite, in fact. Nice to meet you, too. The girl is Raven, my boss on the ground is Agent Gull, and the woman who's really missing her antidepressants is Shadow."

Shadow muttered something under her breath.

"No, you may not. And you can be sure that Agent Gull will back me up on that when she wakes up. The regs are extremely clear about what is allowed. Sleeping with civilians and witnesses is not allowed. Raven, nobody gives a shit about whether they can see your sternum. Stop wriggling, you're only going to abrade your wrists against those cuffs. Stay still until I give the word to break the cuffs, or until Agent Gull wakes up."

"So who are you…people, exactly?"

"That's classified information. We are mostly human, though. Where are we?"

"Chulak, I think. It's a planet in the middle third of the galaxy. It's a big center of power for the Goa'uld Apophis, who just came back after being resurrected a few months ago. Hathor must've made some major connections to get a base here."

"Goa'uld? And why the Egyptian names?"

"The Goa'uld are a parasitic alien race that take over people's minds. They look like eel-worm-snake hybrids. They ruled Earth for thousands of years, before a revolt kicked them out. I'd have thought that Stargate users would know about them."

"Well, we aren't from this temporal continuity. Our jet flew through a negative space wedgie and crash-landed on an ice world. Stargate?"

"It's an Ancient device. It allows instantaneous transport between planets. Negative space wedgie?"

"Agency slang for unexplained hole in space-time. Who are the other women?"

"Slaves from Goa'uld-controlled worlds. They're waiting to be implanted with low-ranking Goa'uld. I can see a couple who look a little like Abydonians, about a dozen who might be descended from Mongols, and a few who look Aztec or Maya."

"What are the supersoldiers? Are they hosts for Goa'uld?"

"No, they're Jaffa. Genetically modified humans who hold larval Goa'uld to prepare them for implantation. Agency?"

"The CIA. Operation Falcon. Founded in 2016 to deal with holes in time after I almost got killed by carnivorous kangaroos while investigating a mysterious animal sighting. I used to be a part-time zookeeper, can you believe that? Philadelphia Zoo, Big Cat Falls exhibit. The snow leopards still remember me; I visited in disguise a month ago."

Major Carter winced when she heard _2016_. "So when are you from, then?"

"May 4th, 2022. The President's Susan Gonzalez. Green Party. My boss is Agent Gull here. Her boss is our team ops leader, Agent Condor. His boss is the First Lady—yeah, she heads the CIA's deep cover divisions in addition to rubbing the President's feet on weekday evenings. We need to get back home in time for the President's anniversary, or we're all fired, because of this bet—anyway, we need to get back home fast. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, but you're twenty years early. It's April 2002."

Sabertooth shrugged, her chains rattling. "Time travel's easy for us. If we can't use a direct link, we'll trans-temp through the Cretaceous or something and take a commercial flight back home. Did I mention that this is the fourth time we've been stuck in an alternate reality?"

"No way."

"Yes way. The first time, Agent Peregrine got eaten by a dinosaur, Agent Gull got bitten in the gut by a scary crocodilian called a saberfang, and Raven got shot out of the sky by paranoid bird people. The second time, we got kidnapped by Nazis and I ripped off Herman Goering's head and Agent Gull punched through Hitler's chest. The last time, I got eaten by a giant sandworm*. On the ice planet we were stuck on this time, I was eaten by an ice shark."

"Ice shark?"

"Don't ask. Hey, it looks like Agent Gull's coming around."

The woman on the floor moaned a little louder and rolled slightly, but then stopped.

"Never mind, she'll be another ten minutes or so. Hey, what are those guards doing?"

Sam risked a look.

"Keep your head down and don't say anything. They're coming to get a host for one of Hathor's offspring."

"Gross."

"Sshhhh!"

"Bullshit. I'm sick and tired of this. Hey, you jerks in the stupid armor!"

A big Jaffa with Caucasian features, probably Hathor's First Prime, looked over. The other four Jaffa stopped, holding their staff weapons at attention. Sabertooth made a grunting sound, and her chains creaked.

"Ok…give me a sec…and I will personally kick your space alien ass."

She heaved again, and the chains popped out of the walls. Unfortunately, her legs were still attached to their chains. She barely caught herself before she hit the ground.

"Uh—hang on a sec, I need to get these other chains!"

The Jaffa had that look of dawning comprehension that they got sometimes. The First Prime, now ashen gray, looked at one of the others.

Sabertooth ripped the bolts of her foot cuffs out of the wall, spanned the tempered steel chain connecting the cuffs like suet, and leaped twenty feet across the room, hitting the First Prime like a living cannon ball.

"This is the fun part," said Raven conversationally, as the women screamed and cowered and the Jaffa yelled with shock as Sabertooth hit their heads together, cartoon style. "She's going to beat the living daylights out of them. I just hope that she didn't hurt her wrists. She gets angry when she's hurt. And when she gets angry, things get ugly."

One of the two Jaffa still on his feet tried to hit Sabertooth with his staff weapon, accidentally ripping her meager clothes off. While he did a double take, she turned around, reached up, and calmly ripped his face off.

Major Carter threw up, hearing the unmistakable snap of a humanoid neck as the Jaffa's wordless, inhuman howl of pain was cut off.

The mutant hit the First Prime as he tried to run, flipping him over and sinking her teeth into his neck at just that inconvenient spot where his armor didn't cover it.

There was a gurgling scream that was quickly cut off. The First Prime struggled for about thirty seconds, then went limp.

The entire fight had taken maybe a minute. Major Carter found herself wanting to bring these women and their team back to SGC. Their superhuman powers would be an unprecedented weapon against the Goa'uld.

Sabertooth's wrists were bleeding, but she grabbed the cell keys (muttering something about how stupid the guards had to be to keep the keys on their persons) from a dead Jaffa and unlocked the other women's cuffs. She then wrapped the remains of her harem clothes around her waist as makeshift underwear.

"Bastards even took by bra—chauvanist pigs."

Major Carter managed to get over her shock. "Yeah, they tend to be that way."

"No respect. Shoved into a harem in these ridiculous outfits with only token guards, our clothes taken, even my _bra_—bastards. I'm going to find who's in charge of this place and castrate him before I cut his throat."

She wiped some of the Jaffa's blood off of her fangs.

"Right. How do we use those space laser staffs?"

"You need to have naquadah in your blood. I have trace amounts from hosting Jolinar, but you probably don't."

"Jolinar?"

"A Tok'ra—a benevolent Goa'uld. The Tok'ra try to stop the Goa'uld proper from taking over the galaxy. I hosted one temporarily."

"Right. I'll carry Agent Gull, _Shadow_ _don't you dare proposition those women_, you take a space laser staff, and Raven can watch our backs. Where did they take our gear, do you think?"

"There should be an armory somewhere on this level. All of our gear is probably there. Damn, I miss my P-90."

"I know how you feel, sister. Do we take the civilians?"

"Those screams probably alerted the whole palace. They won't implant people while there are hostiles running rampage."

Sabertooth ripped a tapestry off of the wall and wrapped it around herself as a toga.

"Ok. Let's move. I'm on point."

*Actually a forty-foot-long amphisbaenian legless lizard.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own SG-1.

Disclaimer #2: I will be mocking some of the more nonsensical tropes present in SG-1 and sci-fi as a whole. Fanboys, please do not troll me for doing so.

Disclaimer # 3: This segment is rated T (PG-13) for mild sexual innuendo and female undergarments used for humorous purposes. If you are offended by this, then I strongly suggest that you stop using the Internet.

Reviews are appreciated.

The whole point of this story was to have ridiculously overpowered heroes with actual tactical skill come into the Stargate universe and wipe the floor with the Goa'uld, despite the fact that the Goa'uld _would_ be able to fight said heroes if the Goa'uld had tactical skill. Since the Goa'uld play pretty much all of the various Evil Overlord tropes ridiculously straight, though…well, even Ba'al is going to have trouble against these guys.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was quite impressed. The superhuman agents took down Jaffa with breathtaking ease, while the SG-1 team followed. O'Neill and Teal'c had had to shoot only three Jaffa out of over fifty.

And for some stupid reason, Agent Electrode _apologized_ for necessitating those shots.

Not that O'Neill wasn't grateful for their aid. Even though Hathor's goons had apparently forgotten their tactical knowledge, the SG-1 agents would never have made it out of the cell wing alive if it weren't for Electrode knocking out Jaffa just by touching them, or Agent Peregrine cutting them to pieces, slicing right through their armor with his claws. The skinny agent had what looked like basic tae kwon do training, but he was still a complete klutz, even in combat. His superhuman strength and speed, combined with his invincible skeleton (made of the same stuff as his claws), gave him a major edge over the Jaffa. Electrode had some kung fu, judo, and maybe a little jujitsu, even though he claimed to be "just an electrical/chemical engineer". There was a lot more to him than met the eye.

Agent Peregrine turned out to be frighteningly intelligent, hacking a Goa'uld computer array in seconds (despite claiming to be awful with computers), which Jack wasted no time in pointing out. The skinny guy's response was a long-winded sciencese tract about genetic alteration and "cognitive enhancements" that seemed to impress Daniel, although it went way over Jack's head. He figured out how to navigate the mansion in a matter of minutes, and got the men to the Goa'uld armory without running into _too_ many patrols.

Once they reached the armory doors, Agent Peregrine slid his claws out.

"I wouldn't try that," said Jack. "That looks like it might be trinium. It's virtually indestructible. You'll just break those blades on it."

Agent Peregrine stepped right up and slashed. The bluish metal cut through the door like brie.

"Huh. Offers more resistance than titanium normally does. Must be a pretty tough alloy."

"Not titanium. Trinium. It's supposed to be indestructible. And you just cut through it like suet."

"Oh, yeah, the claws. It's a meson-based compound that Operation Echo, our deep-science division, came up with in 2017, just before I shattered my entire skeleton*. It cuts diamonds. I've seen test clamps deliver more than ten million pounds per square inch of force to sheets of this stuff a millimeter thick. The clamps broke."

Jack considered this for a moment. Currently, his brain was trying to focus on the potential benefit of getting this guy to help fight the Goa'uld. With a soldier like this, the SGC would never lose again.

"So what are we looking for in here, again?"

Agent Electrode walked in to the armory room. "My enhancer bracers. They improve my shock abilities; I'll tell you how they work later. Also, this suitcase that Agent Peregrine's been lugging everywhere that contains some new gear straight from Operation Echo."

"New gear?"

Agent Electrode grinned. It wasn't a nice grin. "Something scary. It's a new device that they've been working on for months. Sucked up half of their R&D budget for last year. I've seen the prelims on it."

"And?"

"Let's just say that those aliens are screwed. Hey, whose suits are those? And is that my girlfriend's bra sitting on that box?"

O'Neill took a moment to do a double take, and looked at the indicated box. There were four jet-black garments that might have been made of Kevlar laid on top of it. On top of each garment was a set of female undergarments and a number of assorted weapons.

O'Neill took another look around the room, his eyes getting used to the dim light.

"Hey—that's Major Carter's uniform and gun. They must have taken her to the harem! They're going to implant her with a Goa'uld! Come on, we have to save her!"

Just then, Jackson yelled from the door. "Someone's coming!"

And then he was thrown against the wall by a woman in a ridiculously transparent dress.

Teal'c shot at the attacker with his staff weapon, but she dodged the blast with inhuman speed, leaping up, propelling herself off the wall, and pirouetting in the air to kick Teal'c in the chest. The Jaffa warrior flew backwards in to Agent Peregrine, and they both crashed through a case full of zats.

The woman landed in a ninjitsu offensive combat stance.

"Who's next? Give us our clothes and weapons, or I kill you all."

Agent Electrode pushed down O'Neill's staff weapon. "Let me handle this. Hey, Shadow."

"Electrode? What the hell are you doing here, and who are these heavies?"

"They're friendlies. We just escaped a cell. Here's your meds, by the way."

"They just left our stuff lying around? These guys are idiots!"

"Yeah, they kind of are. The Goa'uld, not Colonel O'Neill here and his team. They're the good guys here. Could you please apologize to Teal'c and Doctor Jackson, by the way?"

"Who?"

"The guy who shot at you and the dude you hit against the wall. They're from this universe's Earth. I'll let Colonel O'Neill here fill you in."

"Yeah, we're agents of Stargate Command—SGC. Our official designation is SG-1."

"You chumps are part of Major Carter's team? Man, you guys are lucky she stoops to work with you!"

Jack blushed. "Yeah…she's more professional than the rest of us sometimes."

"Sometimes? Well, based on her descriptions of your crazy trips, your idiotic enemies, and the fact that your side is _losing_…"

Further argument was forestalled by four other women entering the armory. A hulking bodybuilder type carrying a smaller woman spoke first.

"Nice hit, Shadow. Hey, you boys turn around so we can get Agent Gull back into her suit. Damn aliens took our clothes. Chauvinist pigs."

"Ouch," said Electrode. "Nice toga, by the way."

"Yeah, it's a tapestry of some sort. Hey, thanks—but this is Agent Shadow's suit."

"What? I thought the black lace was hers!"

"No, that's mine. I _did_ promise you a special night in Tahiti, Jimmy."

Jack felt the need to interrupt that conversation.

"Uhhh…should we leave? And give you some private time?"

They turned to look at him. Jack indicated their surroundings, especially the hole in the door.

Agent Peregrine and Teal'c got up unsteadily. The ninja woman ducked behind a rack of staff weapons to change. Sam and a thin teenager in Goa'uld harem clothes guarded the entrance, having been passed a pair of UZI submachine pistols (for the girl) and a P-90 (for Sam). The girl had two black patches covering much of her back, under her clothes.

Sabertooth sighed. "Fine. Reunion later. I'll get Gull into her suit. Has anyone seen her helmet?"

Agent Peregrine picked up a futuristic-looking bike helmet. "Here. Banged up, but the coil's intact."

"Good. Shadow, zip up your suit."

"But I want the zipper down!"

"When was the last time that you left your suit half-unzipped?"

"Uh…Hong Kong. I was trying to impress Ling with a little cleavage."

"And what happened to you?"

"I got shot in the chest by one of the human traffickers we were beating up."

"And how long were you in intensive care as a result?"

"Three days."

"My point exactly. Zip up. You are not a fantasy book cover model."

Agent Peregrine switched places with Major Carter, who grabbed her uniform ad ducked behind the staff weapon rack. Electrode was attaching a pair of metal bracers on to his arms.

"OK…these babies are ready! Let's electrocute some alien butt!"

He switched places with the teenager, who grabbed her suit—it had two slits in the back, O'Neill noticed—and a trench coat and went deeper into the armory to change. O'Neill noticed that her chest looked…_odd_. The midline poked out through the girl's harem clothes, and she seemed to have massive chest muscles instead of breasts.

O'Neill wondered what kind of genetic modification it took to make someone like that. The girl clearly a teenager, smaller and thinner than a full-grown woman would be, with a large head and inhumanly large eyes that seemed out of place on her otherwise nondescript face. However, given that she seemed to be with the other mutants, and acted like a trained soldier or a long-time SGC field agent, she couldn't possibly be as young as she looked.

If he'd seen her in the street, Jack would've guessed her to be about fourteen, which made no sense when contrasted against the mesh of scars on her arms and her emotionless, professional mannerisms.

Agent Sabertooth caught him staring at the girl's retreating form.

"Yeah, she's really 17. Looks 14 due to a gen mod error. Accidental immortality gene. I'll tell you later."

"Her eyes…"

"Yeah, she's got eagle eyes. I've seen her take out commandoes from over a mile away. She has problems in dark conditions, though. Too many cone cells, not enough rods."

"How did she get those scars at the age of 17?"

"Torture. Don't ask."

"Does it have something to do with your…modifications?"

"Yes. We have these mods because they are the bare minimum that we need to do our job without getting killed. The enemy mutants are even stronger and faster."

"Enemy mutants?"

"This evil secret society that keeps trying to spread anarchy. They have these mutant assassins called the Twelve. One of them assassinated the Secretary of State last month; it was pure luck that we saved the President."

"So…kind of like the X-men?"

"Not really, although our world has superheroes. They first showed up in 2018. Four of them now, used to be three. Two are genetic experiments, one was natural-born, and one was a freak accident."

"Cool. So can any of them shoot laser beams from their eyes?"

"No. Unlike your world, ours obeys the laws of casuality."

"Huh? Causality?"

"No, casuality. I mean, these stupid aliens are apparently unfamiliar with tactics and use the crazy magic space laser staffs, even though the staffs shoot only about as fast as regular rifles. Meanwhile you guys have automatics and actual IQ scores, and you're holding your own at best, according to Major Carter. Does this ever strike you as nonsensical?"

"Well…sometimes…I mean, no normal, sane person actually talks like Anubis does. He actually says stuff like '**KNEEL BEFORE MY AWESOME POWER!**' with a straight face. And now Apophis is back, despite all those times we killed him." He paused. "You know, when you put it that way, my life seems a little weird."

"Understatement, coming from an alien-fighting soldier who teleports across the galaxy all the time."

"Good point."

There was the sound of marching feet from outside.

"Looks like we're about to have company. Let me handle this, I'm famous in Goa'uld town."

"Famous?"

"They pretty much all hate my guts. Long story."

"Do any of you guys need a shrink? For the stress? Because I know a great one; he's handled me and Raven for the past two years."

"Already taken care of."

"Good boss?"

"Yeah, General Hammond's pretty good. Alright, here they come. Fifty Jaffa, and what looks like Hathor in the back."

"Hooray. I'm going to kick her ass."

*Long, painful story involving a fifteen-foot carnivorous mammal-like reptile called a gorgonopsian.

I hope that my lampshading of Anubis's wonderful hammyness was appropriate. I've always been a huge fan of his over-the-top melodrama.


	4. Chapter 4

Come on. It's called . You must be nuts to need a disclaimer, but here it is anyway. I don't own SG-1.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was quite impressed. The mutant agents had taken Hathor's soldiers down in a matter of seconds with bullets and some kind of zat-like electrical pulse weapons that looked like crosses between P-90s and staple guns. Hathor was the only creature outside of the armory room that was still standing.

The System Lord looked around, and stumbled backwards, snarling.

"**Pathetic Tau'ri. You may have defeated my warriors, but you will still all kneel before me!**"

Agent Raven looked imploringly at Sabertooth. "May I please? Please?"

Sabertooth cracked a grin, showing off her pointed incisors. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

Agent Peregrine nudged Jack in the side, and whispered to him.

"This'll be good. Watch her take the alien queen down."

Jack wasn't sure what he meant, but he decided to watch. After all, the agents had been ridiculously effective against the Jaffa so far.

Agent Raven stood up, leaped over the hastily-erected barricade of crates, and strode purposefully out towards Hathor, who stopped backing up and sneered at the advancing agent.

"Yo, bitch! You're the one in charge of this freak show? The one who took my clothes and shot my boss with pain beams?"

"**How dare you insult me, human scum! I am the System Lord of this planet, and I demand your allegiance! Now, kneel before me or be destroyed! You will make a fine hok'taur for my offspring!**"

"Wrong answer."

Raven _moved_. In a blur of speed, she picked Hathor up by the ankles, bounced her head off of the ground, shook her a few times for good measure, body-slammed her back against the ground, and leaped up into the air.

The agent came down with both fists on the System Lord's abdomen.

Hathor made a wheezing little whimpering sound, not unlike a strangled kitten (Jack wasn't sure how he knew that, and didn't particularly want to think about it). Raven stood up and brushed some imaginary dirt off of her suit.

"You've just been Lovingly Corrected, bitch."

Sam looked at Jack, wide-eyed with shock.

"What _was_ that?"

"A WWE move," said Sabertooth. "The Mallet of Loving Correction. I saw it live at Wrestlemania 2020. The Rock took out Stone Cold Steve in thirty seconds with that thing. It's a hell of a lot of fun."

Agent Peregrine was giggling madly. Jackson and Teal'c were watching open-mouthed (in Daniel's case—Teal'c's only sign of emotion was the fact that his left eyebrow had crept up almost to where his hairline would have been if he had one, although that was Teal'c's equivalent of slack-jawed awe in any event).

"So…" said Jack, still trying to process what he had just seen. "You use pro wrestling moves on your enemies?"

"Oh, yeah. That one's usually only good against human goons, though—the Twelve are too fast and strong for it to be effective. We sometimes use the Kitten Setting on them, if we can."

"Kitten—never mind, I don't want to know. How are we going to get out of here, by the way?"

Sabertooth's reply was cut off by Sam's yell of pain as she noticed that Agent Gull's breathing had returned to a somewhat normal cycle, and tried to gently shake the mutant awake. The agent lashed out instinctively, and broke Carter's humerus instantly.

_I'm still certain that the Star Trek boxers would have been luckier than the South Park ones_, said Esh in Gil'gam's mind.

"**Well, sorry**," Gil'gam whispered, peeking around the corner at a large squad of about twenty Jaffa. "**We had very little time to prepare for this mission, as I'm sure you recall**."

_How could I forget? We share the same body, don't we? Oh, and next time we go on a date, I get to be in control. I still can't believe that you didn't wake up my personality! _

"**That was over a month ago! Come on, Esh, focus on the mission! It was hard enough to pretend to be one of Apophis's servants to get in here, harder to slip En'ki-Du in, and even harder to actually find Bes! Plus, it took us so long that his host got caught and killed, and we barely got him out! And we aren't even out yet! Last time we ever do those Tok'ra idiots a favor. They're only marginally more intelligent than the System Lords.**"

_Keep it down, will you? We got the Queen defector, didn't we? And we have Bes too—pity about his host—still can't remember his name, the short ugly one—but we both know that I'm pretty much the only human strong enough to use cows for military presses and tough enough to shrug off staff weapon blasts. And Bes didn't have a refractor suit—because you insisted that the Tok'ra weren't intelligent enough to use it properly. _

"**Can't an alien symbiote complain? And in my defense, they WERE too dumb to figure out how to use it and remember how many shots it could take.**"

There was a burst of noise that sounded like Tau'ri machine gun fire. The Jaffa raised their weapons and moved off in the direction of the explosions and screams.

_True. I remember Sar'gon taking those twenty shots, and just standing there. What an idiot. It must be something with the old hosts. I heard that Sel'mak has a new Tau'ri host who's pretty sharp. Not as sharp as me, but sharp. _

"**Lucky bastard. Hey, how did we get to this topic from which boxers were luckier?**"

_Beats me. You started it. Hey, here comes En'ki-Du with the jar and the symbiotes. Let's try to get out of here quickly. No need to pull stunts like that one time we were fighting Ishtar. _

"**In his defense, the bull's, er, 'white kidneys', were the closest things that he could grab.**"

_They sure made her upset, though. _

"**Boy, oh boy, did they.**"

Symbiote and host took a moment to relive five-thousand-year-old memories. Ishtar had been a particularly sadistic and power-hungry System Lord back in the days before the Tau'ri revolt, even though she had only controlled three planets. Gil'gam-Esh had decided to take her on for three reasons—one, because she was a soft first target for anti-System Lord rebels; two, because she became known as the Sumerian goddess of sex and violence for a reason; and, three, because her main power base on Earth, Kish, had been rather close to Gil'gam-Esh and En'ki-Du's city of Uruk. The Stampeding Aurochs Incident, as the two legendary best buddies called it, had been a particularly memorable battle, culminating with Ishtar retreating to her city, developing a nasty disease, and infecting En'ki-Du with it. Which led to Gil'gam-Esh going on a legendary quest for that cranky scientist—one of the other early rebels, one of Egeria's brood who had been part of Gil'gam-Esh's Tau'ri Surveillance Project before he was killed in Sicily by some idiot Roman—in order to get a cure for the virus. Good times.

"…and again, I'm really, really sorry, I just have this instinctive reaction after the time March woke me up by whispering in my ear about all of the sadistic things she wanted to do to me with her sword blades. On the plus side, you look tough; it shouldn't take more than a week or two to heal, if you're lucky. Sabertooth, you'd better explain to me what the hell we're doing here and why there are a bunch of unconscious goons in the hallway while I patch up this lady."

Agent Gull was multitasking, obviously. She was currently trying to set Carter's arm as the other agents variously geeked out over the Jaffa's weaponry, took turns hitting the semiconscious Hathor, and apologized to SG-1 for the misunderstanding. Jack O'Neill was feeling overwhelmed. Apparently Agent Gull talked a lot when she was stressed.

"Oh, and Sam, Shadow here is too scared to say this, but she's open for a date whenever you like. She's probably had the hots for you since she first saw you, given how she's sweating. Shadow, don't-you-dare-give-me-that-look-you-know-it's-tru e-I'm-just-trying-to-help-you-get-a-date-for-once- so-stop-glaring-at-me! Sabertooth, explanation, NOW! Oh, and the black guy's eyebrow is trying to escape."

Agent Sabertooth started talking before the situation deteriorated further. Jack and Sam looked at each other. Jack felt about as red as Sam looked. Daniel was stuttering. Teal'c's left eyebrow was raised to its physical limit.

"Right…from the top…well, after the bitch in the backless dress had her minions shoot us with pain beams, they must've separated the boys, because Raven, Shadow and I woke up in these ridiculous sheer clothes, chained to a wall, without underwear."

"So…chauvinist dirtbags captured us?"

"Chauvinist aliens. We met Sam, here, in the harem. She's basically a space marine; her squad here uses wormhole-opening devices to teleport across the galaxy. They're fighting these parasitic snake aliens called the Gold or something, who masquerade as ancient gods. The armored goons are called Jiffys or something—they're the slave soldiers of the snake aliens. The black guy's a good Jiffy…Jaffy…Jiffa…whatever they're called. The bitch in the backless dress is a queen snake alien called Hathor. Apparently she controls a bunch of star systems. She was planning to implant us with her offspring. We broke out of the harem and killed her lieutenant and a bunch of goons. She got some more goons and came after us. We hid in here with the guys, who apparently broke out of some sort of cell. We got dressed and put your uniform back on. The bitch and her goons attacked. We shot the goons; live rounds for these guys and Shockers for us. Raven did the Mallet of Loving Correction on the bitch. You woke up, and broke Sam's arm. That's pretty much where we are. The space marines could tell you more. We're in some sort of building, by the way. Sam thought it was a parked spaceship at first, but then we almost fell out the window. There's a pyramid down the mountain that Sam assures me is actually an alien spaceship."

"Sounds like a wacky conspiracy theory I heard once from this nutty archeologist. One of Agent Skua's pals. You know, the handsome one with the stupid glasses, the crackpot who would spout nonsense about the Great Pyramid being a landing pad for an ancient alien overlord."

Daniel cleared his throat at that point. "You know, I'm _right here_. And I'm not a crackpot, thank you very much! And I must note, if you people are from an alternate universe, and you know the other me…what am I like?"

Agent Gull didn't miss a beat or apologize. "Hey, yeah, you look like Henry's friend. The other you is an idiot, just so you know. He rants about the alien overlords and points to all sorts of hieroglyphs to try to prove his point. He's had exactly zero luck so far, and he's been at it for close to forty years now."

Something struck Jack about that last part. Forty years?

The mutant continued, carefully wrapping Sam's broken arm in scraps of harem clothes to make a makeshift sling.

"Anyway. This is obviously an alternate universe, or parallel temporal continuity, or whatever the hell you want to call it, so things that we take for granted may not be true here. For example: who's President?"

"President Hayes, of course," said Jack. "What, you think that that moron Bush ever had a chance against a genuine veteran?"

The agents froze. Agent Gull spoke again after a moment.

"You're sure? Because we got eight years of President Bush. That was when I was a kid. January '01 to January '09. We had incompetent war criminals as POTUS and veep. Then we got eight years of Obama, and he was competent, but he couldn't have cared less about human rights and constitutional guarantees of such things as press freedom. Then we had a year of Gingrich, but he got ridden out on a rail and dumped into the Potomac for gross incompetence, annoying and hypocritical conservatism, and blatant embezzlement. Then we got President Gonzalez, and apart from her major lapse of judgment last year when she decided to have the kid for her wife, she's been pretty good. I digress from my main point, though, which is—what year is it, if Bush recently lost an election? 2001, or 2005?"

Sabertooth moved to say something, but Sam beat her to the punch.

"August 8th, 2001. Why?"

Agent Peregrine whispered something to Agent Gull. She snapped back with something incomprehensible. Agent Peregrine whispered something about alternate timelines and no serious risks of damage.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something about this group called Al Qaeda and an attack on the World Trade Center."

"That was what, in '93? They set off a bomb in the lobby or something? And then there was that ship incident…"

"Yeah, those guys. Anyway, they're planning something big for the 11th of September. We need to get back to Earth, fast, so we can shut them down, stop the attack and the PATRIOT act, and kill their leader. Did I mention that a good half of the US had fantasies about killing bin Laden as kids, if they were about 4 to 10 when the attacks happened? They caught him in 2011. Obama had a Seal team land the jerk."

"Should you be telling us all this? Isn't it dangerous to know what's going to happen?"

"As long as you're careful about it, no. You can change the future without negative effects on the present, so it's not covered by our regs, either. Did Shadow take her pill, by the way?"

"She did," called Sabertooth from the hallway. "Oh, and there's a genuine Neandertal and a guy who looks like the Terminator coming this way with their hands up. What do we do? Their eyes are glowing yellow, by the way. Is that normal for this universe?"

_Just for the record, if we die, I blame you for this. _

"**Fine, next time we wear the Next Generation boxers. You were right; South Park just isn't lucky enough.**"

_Also, I will hunt you for eternity if we die before you can pay me back for leaving me asleep while we had sex last time. I haven't made out with anyone for over a hundred years, and you just let me sleep! _

"**We're about to die at the hands of a woman with three-inch fangs, and you're worried about sex? Way to prioritize, Esh.**"

_Hey, is that System Lord Hathor lying there with her nose smashed in? What the hell happened here? _

The symbiote took a closer look through the human's eyes. System Lord Hathor was indeed lying on the ground with a broken nose at the feet of the winged girl. She appeared to have been through the equivalent of a mixed martial arts cage match very recently—and Gil'gam had seen his fair share of cage matches, including once from the inside, when he had challenged a MMA champion called Harry "The Boltcutter" Weems in a fit of testosterone. Having noted this, the symbiote did the only reasonable thing.

"**Wow. I'd hate to get on the bad side of whoever did THAT.**"

"You're talking to her," said the small, girlish-looking human with the huge eyes and the oddly-shaped chest. "Name's Raven, by the way. Are you guys snake alien parasites? Because I'm just _dying_ to use the Kitten Setting on someone."

En'ki-Du's jaw dropped. "_You_ did this?" Du's Neandertal voice was high-pitched and feminine. Oddly, the girl didn't seem surprised. "A little girl took out a System Lord and twenty Jaffa?"

"Well, I had help. Now, since you seem to speak English, and in a reasonably rational manner as well, perhaps you could tell me who you are?"

"**We are Gil'gam-Esh, indomitable king of Uruk. These are our best friend, En'ki-Du. We first met at a wedding, and had the biggest wedding fight in the history of wedding fights.**"

"Nice. Now, what do you want?"

"**Uh…to get out of here with all of our body parts attached? We're anti-System Lord rebels. Also, we're two of only three Goa'uld to have stayed on Earth for the past three thousand years or so, Hathor here being the third, but she was in a coma in a Mayan pyramid for most of that time because of what En'ki-Du did to her with that log and the rather clever little trap involving the knockout dart, which he accidentally put too much of the knockout juice on, although she really…**"

"So here to help, here to ask for help, or here to get killed?"

"**Well, we need help getting to our ship, but then we can help you get back to Earth quickly. What, exactly, did you do to Hathor?**"

"A wrestling move called the Mallet of Loving Correction. Named after a book by a guy called John Scalzi. You have a spaceship?"

"**An al'kesh on the planet and a modified tel'tak on a nearby moon. Hathor has a new model ha'tak downhill that we can probably steal. Our corvette has weapons that can take down a ha'tak in a matter of seconds, and it's got a hyperdrive engine that can get us back to Earth in minutes. We would use a Chappa'ai—a Stargate—but Hathor's in big with Apophis, who's taking a leaf out of Ba'al's book and is hiding out on this Gate-less planet. Clever little snakes.**"

"Right. Have no clue what any of that means, so I'm going to take you to my boss. Yo, boss! These guys say they have a spaceship, and they're carrying some sort of snake eel things in jars. They need help, but they've offered to get us back to Earth on their ship."

As the hulking woman with the fangs fell in a respectful distance behind them, Gil'gam-Esh got worried. Extremely worried.

_Oh, crap, they look like time-jumpers. How the hell did time-jumpers get into this universe again? _

_Loki? That idiot said that he was going to be doing a new experiment with his makeshift 'Gate. Do you think that he caused this mess again? _

_Probably. Damn it, and you insisted on the South Park boxers! _

_Not my fault! And we need a plan—after that last incident, we're still dealing with the timeline crap. _

_At least this one is stable, even though the Tau'ri found the Stargate. If he's screwed it up again, though…_

_There could already be effects. Hathor was supposed to be dead, right? O'Neill threw her into a cryo chamber. And now she's back, and it can't be a clone because she hates clones. Damn it, we're going to have to go through another last time, won't we? _

_I sure as hell hope not. _


End file.
